Harboring The Pheonix
by noneedforpeace
Summary: "How do I tell who I am! How do I tell what's the truth and what's what you and all those other liars drilled into me!" "...You don't." From the look on his face, it's obvious that wasn't the answer he needed. Once a phoenix rises, can it be caged? *spoilers for Assassins Creed 3
1. Rise

**Oh hey, remember me?! *derp face* long time no read. It took a while to think of something I'd be proud to post and continue writing, then this 'rising phoenix thing floated around tumblr, gave me a heart attack and inspired this. **

_**December 31, 2012**_

_**Entry: #4**_

_**Project "Rising Phoenix" in full funding. 2.5 Billion dollars successfully collected to reach goal in reviving valuable assets; Subject 17. Also known as Desmond Miles. **_

_**Body was retrieved December 22, 2012 inside 'Grand Temple' without absolute damage. Colleagues nowhere within the area. No further information given.**_

_**Brought into Abstergo industries to begin project of reanimating deceased subject, beginning with blood flow of vitals, replenishing of skin, including manipulating the brain to eliminate all memories of Assassin affiliation. **_

_**Retraining program is under hand and awaiting its student.**_

_**Changing of name and physical appearance is in consideration due to father-William Miles' status in Assassins order.**_

_**All requirements for beginning of project are a go. Date to complete project 'Rising Phoenix' is **_

_**3-13-13.**_

"All quotas have been met; seventeens' brain activity is at its top level and all his vitals are responding to the pump treatment. His hand has been repaired. Color to his skin has returned and his breathing cycle is in the norm."

"And the…'improvements'?"

"Successful. His brain patterns have not only been amplified, but all memories of the Assassins have been blacked out." Rikken smiled in satisfaction, eyes gleaming with a glee that was unsettling. The industry have defied the impossible and brought a deceased man back into the world. Not just any man, someone of high use. He examined one of the many doctors' face, noting the pride the medical scholar held for their revolution. Yet, there was something ill-content in his tired eyes as well.

"Is a time set for his awakening? Our deadline is deathly close." The doctor nodded, raising a clipboard into the chat screen.

"We have scheduled his full revival tomorrow, Mr. Rikkin." Perfection. Rikkins' face grew into a smile, slender fingers entwining in pride and excitement.

"That's news I like to hear. Get your preparations done. I'll be in town by tonight to welcome our new 'recruit' into Abstergo arms. See you then Doctor Swartz."

"Yes. Of course." The professor turned away from the camera clad laptop to study his fellow colleagues, all pattering and hovering over Desmond' Miles newly live body, his chest rising and falling on-thank the gods- its own. The machines around and connected to him purred in low hums that gave an eerie aura to what was commencing in the hidden lab. Doctor Swartz moved to the young man's side, watching his eyes flick under long closed eyelids, hands twitching unconsciously along with the pattern.

It is somewhat endearing, like watching a child sleep. It fit in too many ways to name. Even though they were giving him a chance at life once again, there was something terribly sad about his situation. Doctor Swartz pats the former assassin on the side, turning to an assistant as he did so.

"Get Cross. Tell him the phoenix is rising."

Yes, Desmond Miles was indeed alive-soon to be lucid.

But he wouldn't be Desmond Miles anymore when he woke up.

**oOo**

Daniel Cross stood to the side of the lab, watching the medical experts rush about in anticipation. One pulled a lever here or pushed a button there, releasing noises from the machines hooked to their experiment. Cross bared his teeth in distaste at the young Miles' body; his knife wound throbbing with the memory. 'The little bastard barely missed my liver.' The former-druggie growled menacingly at a hovering assistant as he offered him a bottle of water.

The not so pleasant meeting of the polar opposites has Cross wondering why Rikkin chose him for this project.

"_You are best with our recruits, Daniel. Besides- in a way Mr. Miles will be a whole new person. He'll be absolutely oblivious to the Rome incident. That leaves __**you**__ room to convince our investment even farther into loyalty."_

That was no excuse; in Cross' eyes whoever this new being would be, they'd still be the little prick Desmond Miles that blindly jumped into a fight. They'd still be the obstacle that defied his every skill. That's all he would ever see when he encountered the reanimated human. Still an Assassin one way or another. He turned his head as two voices appeared behind a revolving door-Rikkin and the head of the operation, Doctor Swartz.

"-brain is fully able, but his body is still too weak to keep up, so we're going to 'jolt' him awake in a way. We have decided to send a low electronic purge through his spine, which will not only complete the revival, but will increase the speed of his recovery and- Mr. Cross!" The doctors rambling ended with a surprise call of Daniels' name, the elder patting his shoulder as he passed, Rikkin behind him with a pleased smirk on his face and still in his business attire.

The Templar nodded towards his boss, watching him pass with a sour twitch of his eye. This concept was not going to end well, as far as he was concerned. But he'd be lying if he said the project didn't get him curious; the thought of completely turning around an individual's mind and beliefs after death, making them a whole new person without going as far as totally altering their bodies. With that said, it could back fire a million and one ways. Daniel was quite sure he was prepared for half of them.

"-had to make a few slight changes to separate him from his father, or features that identified him as Desmond Miles. Such as that tattoo; we laser removed it. We managed to upturn his nose a tad just for percussion without utterly butchering his face. We changed his eye color and heightened his voice a tone. We couldn't do anything besides shorten his scar, strangely." Swartz explained as he toggled with the major controls, readying the machine that would finally awaken Desmond and bring him back to the world.

"This is acceptable. What I'm truly concerned over are his memories."

"As I told you, all past association with the assassins was blacked out so strongly not even the most advanced physiatrist could reach them- including his father, mother, and any friends he possibly had." Swartz patiently explained as he finalized the machines settings.

"Good." Rikken concluded, studying Desmonds' form in pride. "Then let's complete this project…after all," He turned to the scientist with a composed grin. "It's our boys' birthday." Daniel glanced at the fellow Templar in surprise, his gaze having been on the still young man a bit too long. Swartz curtly nodded, shooing the inferior visitors back. The others either moved in coordinated patterns hooking pads and wires to Desmond or moved completely out of the way. Daniel soon understood why as Swartz eagerly activated the machine hooked to Desmond, a dangerous growl coming from the futuristic technology.

He wanted to object, saying the thing looked too dangerous to simply wake up the valuable subject. But before he could open his mouth, an awful shriek barraged through the secluded lab as Desmonds' body arched into absolute life-trickles of light secreting from his exposed skin due to the intensity. Daniel wasn't sure if it was awful or fascinating to watch, Rikkin completely still next to him. Swartz face was totally focused on the ex-assassins body squirming and writhing into cooperation with his lively brain. The shriek continued until Swartz yanked a switch that made the current of lightening, stopping the noise and Desmonds' body cold. It was hard to accept this all happened within only a few seconds.

It was deathly silent in the pristine lab, not a soul making a move as they all searched for a sign of consciousness. Daniel grew impatient, pushing past his stunned superior to climb over the barriers surrounding the young man. Those who objected quickly back tracked when he snarled a wanring. Daniel studied his face; brows downward in discomfort. He was alert, and apparently uncomfortable. But even so, the dark blond slowly, cautiously sets two fingers against the moving specimen's neck. Not only does Daniel feel a strong and steady beat, but the skin under his digits is warm…healthy. He recoils when Desmond moves away from his touch-a noise coming from the living project that made Daniel blanch.

Doctor Swartz gives a holler of joy, leaping down from his place above the ex- assassin to rush by his side. Daniel watches in a twist of fascination and disgust as the grey haired scientist coaxes Desmond out of permanent sleep, using a name that is not the novices. Rikkin still stands by the sidelines, staying perfectly still even as the rest of the lab prepares for Desmonds' welcome.

"Come now son, time to get up. You should feel much better. Yes, yes I know it hurts." Desmond released more noises, the tone pained and seeking relief. But he did indeed listen, tentively opening his new eyes to the blinding white of the laboratory. He squinted, weakly fighting Swartz hands probing at his sides and arms as he surveyed what was around him. Daniel was content watching the lucid younger suffer in whatever the scientist was doing. Whether it be beneficial or not.

Then Desmond's foreign eyes locked onto him; the dark brown was gone and replaced a pale green-perhaps just a shade lighter than a green apple- that yanked you into his focus. The contrast to his tan skin just made them pop out even more so, the pupils massive. That was possibly the cause of his issue with the lights. Daniel didn't move, daring the soon to be Templar to do anything, say anything. But the gaze was broken when the darker male clenched his eyes shut as a needled carefully penetrated his skin.

"Calm, _mein sohn_. It's alright. This is going to help with the pain. Yes…relax." Daniel backed away when Swartz began to help Desmond up, the specialist letting him use his shoulders as support.

"ungh…" Desmond tried to speak, the tone of his voice only different to those familiar with the old him. Whatever Swartz had injected worked on his pain, but not his discomfort or fright in the situation.

"One thing at a time, _mein Sohn_. Now to your feet… yes, good." Swartz rested his hands on Desmonds' shaking arms, the entire facility watching the once able enemy try to comprehend the mechanics of his legs. Daniel contemplated pointing out that the quivering man was in no shape to be a Templar. Hell he was hardly in any shape to walk!

"Who…" Desmond had gained control of his vocal chords, his voice coming out graveled and scratchy from neglect.

"No, no, _mein Sohn_-"

"Where…" He was starting to panic, his strength coming back in a steady stream. He had enough power to remove Swartz' hands from his arms, stumbling without the support. He scrambled for leverage, trying his damned hardest not to rely on the medical expert.

"All questions will be answered. Just calm ones' self and come wit' me." It was obvious he wasn't going to put up much of fight, practically slumping into the Doctor when he motioned for the tanned one to come towards him. The duo struggled for footing, the bare chested experiment having absolute no control of his legs. Daniel threw a glance towards Rikkin, who now held a smirk on his cleanly shaven face. All this must be according to plan, otherwise the master Templar wouldn't hold such a pleased expression. "Cross. Would you please join me?" Daniel obeyed, following the doctor into a small checkup room, standing over the calming subject as Doctor Swartz gathered him some fresh clothing.

Daniel avoided eye contact with his confused 'co-worker,' holding no desire to get lured into the pale green gaze that was still haunted with gold specks of his previous life. At the moment he was harmless, almost pathetic in nothing but chalky blue hospital slacks with the rest of him exposed to the nippy air. He also made a mental note to find out the meaning of '_mein sohn_.'

Swartz appeared with a pair of dark washed jeans, sneakers, a white long sleeve and a black jacket/ vest of sorts. Boxers buried within the pants for the sake of modesty. He set a hand on the master Templars shoulder, meaning 'give him privacy.' "Come, Mr. Cross. We have some things to discuss with Rikkin." "_Mein Sohn_, when you are ready find us in the meeting lounge." Desmond perked up in surprise, struggling to get his shaky legs into cooperation long enough to dress.

"Oh. O-okay."

OoO

"His physical abilities should be back to normal by the end of this week. With the help of our trainers of course." Swartz stated, tapping at the lap top in front of him. Rikkin ran a finger across the rim of his water glass in a thoughtful manner. "Even though we gave his brain and body a head start, they still struggle. Right now his brain is trying to reconnect with natural habits; this is the cause of his issues with walking and speaking." Daniel stood at the far end of the table, ice blue eyes flipping between the two elders. He felt anxious for some odd reason, unable to sit down due to his body thrumming in anticipation for what was ahead.

"Will he be able to…'participate?'" It's a loaded question; one that makes Doctor Swartz stop to think.

"Well, yes as far as I can tell. But you will first have to wait for his memory and body to accept what we-ah, _Mein Sohn_! There you are." Daniel raised his eyes in the direction of Swartz voice, and there stood Desmond fully dressed and looking collected with himself. But wait, he wasn't Desmond anymore. The Templar let his eyes grace across Desmond, the younger looking the same but completely different in strange ways.

His skin seemed darker, perhaps because of the contrast in his eyes now; pale, bright green defining his face and catching your attention. It seems Abstergo refused to go subtle. The scar that slashed vertically across his lip is now less prominent-smaller- only cutting through his top lip. How they managed that, Daniel would rather not know. The change in his nose was barely noticeable-but when it came to identification, he would pass off as another person. His hair now harbored licks of light brown against the near black, body leaner as well. Though that could be due to the fact he was dead for three months-only truly breathing the last month of his time in the lab.

Daniel drops his inspection when Swartz comes into his focus, gingerly placing a hand on the currently timid subject.

"Nice to see you, young man. We were worried we lost you." Rikkin lies, not missing a beat including a hint of relief in his coy act. The concern throws off the freshly live man.

"Wha-"Desmond tries to speak, but Swartz stops him with a gentle pat on the chest.

"We will explain everything in a moment _mein sohn_. Right now, you need water." He takes the glass without arguing, letting Swartz settle him into a chair.

"That's enough coddling, Doctor. Time to tell him what happened." Rikkin commented, leaning on the meeting table in front of him, placing his eyes on his investment. Daniel clenched his jaw, looking anywhere but his counterpart. Or was he still that?

"You see, son; you are a member of a secret and ancient legacy known as the Templars. They've been around for centuries and are continuing on just as our opponent is. Do you think you remember them?"

Desmond shakes his head, his expression looking as if it pains him to try to remember. Rikkin plays a crest fallen face and shakes his head in artificial dismay. "Ah, we feared this when they brought you in…"

"Who? What happened?" Being in the dark seemed to itch and bother the novice, looking to Swartz for answers. Daniel sensed something between the two. Rikkin threw a warning glance towards Daniel before he let the sadness leak into his eyes and begin speaking.

"You and Mr. Cross here were on an assignment; you were to infiltrate an assassin's base in Rome and retrieve data for an important artifact. We lost contact with the both of you about three floors up. They overwhelmed your enforcements-killed them all without a bat of an eyelash. They stabbed Daniel, and imprisoned you. Most likely for information." Daniel could feel the weight of eyes on his skull, making effort to not meet green with blue. "We found Daniel bleeding on the floor-and he told us what happened to you. When we found you, you were near death and…totally oblivious to where you were." Daniel let himself focus on the awestruck subject, watching him flex the hand that been burnt-nearly charred-flesh.

"I…remember Rome, and Cross being there but…nothing else." Rikkin nodded sympathetically.

"That's perfectly understandable. They exposed you to one of the pieces of Eden-does the name bring up anything?" Daniel couldn't help but feel Rikkin was pushing his luck with the memory manipulation. He seemed to have forgotten the renewed male had handled the apple-he harbored Assassin DNA. But Desmond shook his head, a frown now etched into his brow like he was trying to reach the artificial memories.

"Well, we're glad to see you lucid. And piecing together your I.D."

"But my name! My life! I can't…" Desmond fitfully ran a hand through his newly colored hair, the distress and confusion of his awakening leaving him horribly vulnerable. It took all of Daniels' might not to smirk. Or toy with him even more so than planned.

"That is an easily answered question, _Mein Sohn_." Swartz interjected with eagerness, pulling the 'Templars' profile onto the screen of his laptop. His photo was edited into what they believed would be the outcome of the project-all his new features included and all other information had been re-written to completely oppose his past life.

He was no longer a run away.

He was no longer a bartender from New York.

And he was most certainly no longer an Assassin or had any docile interactions with Assassins.

Desmond Miles was dead as far as the world new it. Someone else was reborn in his place with new promise.

"You're name is Damon Colt, and you are a Templar."

**Well hot damn, that came out okay. If you like where this could go, review yeah? I could use the encouragement in this. Anyway, hope you like. **


	2. Be Reborn

**Response was okay to the first chapter. I'm happy to see others like the idea. So I won't keep you too long ^^**

Daniel trudged through the clean halls of the latest Abstergo facility, terrible coffee in hand that left a sour taste in his mouth. His mood was not anywhere near positive thanks to the past two nights; Rikkin had practically made it his job to watch over 'Damon' in defense that they had him believe Cross was his loyal partner. This forced obligation led to an argument when Doctor Swartz led Damon/Desmond-honestly Daniel wasn't sure what the fuck to call him yet-off for some rest.

His boss's words still left an angry echo in his head.

"_Mr. Colt is freshly awake and confused. He's going to need our entire organizations' support to truly believe he is one of us. Doctor Swartz is __**not**__ enough. And we certainly did not spend two billion dollars just for this to flop onto the floor."_

"_How exactly does this include me?" It's closer to a snarl than a question._

"_Are you aware of the old saying 'keep you friends close and your enemies' closer'?" Daniel falls silent. He's half tempted to childishly bite at Rikkins' hand when it gruffly pats his cheek. "Keep that in mind." _

Daniel _had_ kept it in mind; almost all through the night as he stewed in his dismay and anger. So much that he skipped the second day of the project, coming into the Templar facility on day three of his enemies awakening.

He had been aware of his frequent inclusion in the phoenix project, but he had not been informed he'd have to be buddy, buddy with the man that had attempted-and almost succeeded-to kill him. After the relief of near death, that left room for unrestrained fury towards the once assassin, thinking of ways to return the favor.

But of course he'd be exiled (or worse) if he acted on his violent fantasies now. Not only was…Damon a registered Templar; he was also an asset and a high investment. That made him priceless to Abstergo. His anger and resentment was usually enough to make him walk away or destroy the cause of it; Instead he was walking through the medical halls in search of Swartz' work area, where surely the new Templar was having his examination. Cross had to start the 're-befriending' act early.

He didn't bother with the receptionist, just strolled right through the door where-sure enough-the medical professor was probing at Damon's ribs. Said victim of the doctors' cold prodding, twitching and squirming at the attention.

"Breathe." The doctors' scrambled German accent rang through Daniels' ears, the elder man intent on the stethoscope pressed against his patients' side. Damon obeyed. "Again." He encouraged. It went on for a moment before Swartz pulled away, patting his experiment on the shoulder. "Lungs are nice and strong, muscles are naturally reproducing mass, and blood flow has increased. _Mein Sohn_, how do you feel?"

"Better." The younger responded, moving to put his shirt back on.

"Better as in…"

"Better than yesterday." The soft smile on Damons' face seems to be the best confirmation the Doctor could get.

"Glad to hear. I assume a pleasant sleep then." The green eyed male hesitated.

"It was nice but-it felt kind of weird. Didn't feel like my normal place."

Daniel took it as his time to make an entrance, curtly tapping the ajar door with his boot. The noise gets the attention of the busy duo, his conflicting enemy pointing those eyes towards him. So he looks away, swishing his coffee until the weight of Colt's gaze recedes.

"Ah hello Cross! You're just in time. I've got some good news for Rikkin. Come, come." The doctor eagerly waves the other over, using his index finger to push his glasses back to the bridge of his nose. The eldest of the specialists did not mention is absence yesterday. He watches over the medical experts shoulder as he taps into his ever stuck to him laptop. "As you over heard, _junge _has made astounding progress within the night! His muscle regeneration is twice as fast as I predicted, and his white blood cells are almost invincible. Not to mention his reflexes have already come to his previous terms-brain activity is at its highest and from what I saw this morning his appetite is-"

"Doc, ya mind shortening it if this is for Rikkin?" the ex-drug addict clipped as his head started to ache. Swartz paused, and then spread a sheepish smile unto his aged face.

"Ah I apologize, Cross; I do not intend to ramble. Just tell Rikkin, he is beyond our expectations." The pride in Swartz statement compels Cross to turn towards the fellow subject. The young man must be self-conscious-he turns the moment Daniel eyes land on him, the two locking into another stare that the blonde feels the need to break. Just something about Damon/Desmond-Jesus Christ it was hard to retrain names-was just too abruptly different. It ticked at Daniels' anxiety. But the hair brained doctor comes between them, cradling his lap top as if he was in a hurry.

It turned out he indeed was.

XxX

Here came Daniels anger again; though his companion was clueless to it as the two awkwardly strolled through the perfectly decorated and windowed building known as Rome's' own Abstergo. Swartz seemed to have received an urgent message from the laboratory below, and had recommended Damon to tour the building, refresh his memory. The other day had been totally dedicated to informing the Colt of his life-of any family and reason of joining the Templars. Apparently the new story had incorporated the most prominent moments of Damon's older life and had 'edited' them into something close enough to the past.

All courtesy of the skilled physiatrists in the building. Hell, they even convinced a few veteran members to come in and welcome the rookie as if he had been there. Of course, with Daniel there the doctor had pulled a pretty sly move of saying Daniel could answer any questions Damon needed. That left the two so called partners alone, and Daniel awe struck.

Even so: Damon didn't ask a thing through their walk, perfectly content pausing to examine a painting on the wall, trivially plopping down in a reception chair and get back up to do more exploring. He was much like that good child in your class that never made a noise during a field trip, bit did every little activity offered.

It seemed Rikkin was serious when he meant the entire organization needed to show their support, multiple strangers smiling or saying hello to the two as if they were used to seeing them together.

With every friendly glance or greeting, Daniel could feel Damon focusing on him as if searching for a sign that this behavior was normal. He brushed it off with shrugs and answering flickers of eye contact, enough to either keep him sated or enough to make him uncertain. Daniel wasn't too sure which and frankly he could care less. He lost track of time after who knows how long of walking, tempted to tell Damon he'd learn again as time went, when the individual halted himself. He craned his head to curiously look inside a certain room; grunts and noises of impact enough info for Daniel.

It was the combat gym. Daniel had spent his first few months locked inside the clammy area; needing something to vent and prove that Abstergo was where he was meant to stay. He had taken months, maybe years of frustration out on the frequently replaced punching bags. It was clear Damon was pretty keen on going in-maybe something from his previous life mixing with what Rikkin had told him, turning into a curious flicker of familiarity.

He was proved right when green eyes came to him, the request ready to come out of his mouth. So Daniel shrugs, gruffly moving the other to open the door, intensifying the sounds muffled by the door. It was much like it had been when Daniel spent time there; only a few bored lunch stragglers practicing common self-defense or lifting weights, radio struggling to play tunes over the clatters and clangs of the equipment. The scent was stronger, mustier than usual. But other than that the area had been untouched by Abstergo's constant upgrades and altercations.

The blonde was a bit overwhelmed by the nostalgia.

He watched Damon tentively take it in, as if his mind was piecing memories with the place. It surprised Daniel how open of a book Damon was so lost; he could see his confusion and struggle to find a flicker of comfort in the gym. His youthful face reflected his thoughts as he soaked in the loud, stuffy recreation center. The darker male shook his head, previously damaged hand flexing.

"I really don't remember anything…." He muttered, barely heard over the thumps and crashes of the gym. Daniel has to get closer to hear his walk partner speak.

"What?"

"Donavan-"

"Who the hell is-"

"Sorry, _Swartz_-he said that I spent a lot of time in here. With you-with others but I just…can't get it." The last part is murmured, as if he's saddened that he can't grab the positive moments he seemingly spent with the older Templar. A few patrons slowed their work out to study the two, being dead middle in the gym. He was sure they were curious as to why Abstegos largest project was inside the laid back space of the workout area.

Or more specifically why Daniel 'no shit' Cross was docilely interacting with the person that nearly took his life.

Daniel spots an abandoned rod lying innocently by his foot, eyes flicking to the ex-assassins back turned to him. "Memories take time." He mutters, bending to swipe the thin pole off the ground. "Especially after-you know-all your shit." He adds, slowly walking behind the young one. He's quite sure some sarcasm-some of his grudge- slivered into his voice. If so, the oblivious target didn't pay attention.

"How exactly do I know you?" Damon sounds a little agitated, crossing his arms and remained turned away from the sneaking Templar. Daniel pauses, thinking of a way to tie his test into a good story for the confused experiment. A wicked thought strikes his mind, something resembling a grin crossing his face.

"Believe it or not…" He begins, moving close enough for Damon to feel his presence. "We met in…HERE!" He shouts the last word-using every ounce of strength he had to reel the metal rod right towards Damon's' skull. Perhaps he had more than one motive to do this.

It really didn't worry him if he succeeded in his bluff.

But the sound of two different weights colliding never reach Daniel ears, the steel piece of equipment caught firmly in a frightened-and slightly angered- Damon's grip. They stop their moving, maybe even their breathing-as adrenaline laced gazes met paired with heavy breathing. The near victims hand tightened around the metal- to make sure his companion didn't have any more tricks. Damon broke the contact first, attention going towards the heavy pole wrapped in his hand. Daniel let that not quite grin make up his expression, releasing the momentary weapon.

"Well damn-"He breathed, crossing his arms as Damon dropped the rod like it burned him. "The doc wasn't kidding. You've got your reflexes back." Though Daniel hadn't been too sure about how much of his natural body movements he still harbored. He barely knew the transformed prick, so who knows what his motor skills were like before. Or all his time in the Animus still left traces of stealth expertize.

He knew one thing- the previous Desmond wouldn't have caught that. It had been worth the try…or test. Whichever settled his reasons? The new Templar was still in shock, examining his hand looking for damage.

"You knew I'd catch that?" There was a sort of excitement in Damon's expression, as if Daniel challenging him was enough to show a sliver of clarity in his cloud of doubt. It was physically hard for Daniel to put a friendly smirk on his face for the other.

"Hell yeah. You were always quick to act. Glad to see they got that in you." Daniel felt he should get an Oscar when Damon looked away in flattered thought.

"You said that we met in here. What did we do?" Daniel loosened the smile a tad, circling the only Colt in a lazy gate. He had Damon tied up, but not in the ropes. God knew how long that would take. He may be confused and hungry for answers, but he had restraint.

With restraint and preparation for betrayal came a soft spot. And the softest was those you knew before. So Daniel takes a quick swipe at Damon's head, not surprised when the upgraded individual dodges with ease. He takes another-quicker and sharper-that aims for his ear. Daniel feels his palm brush the hair of Damon's head. And with that second attempt comes an answering shove from Damon. He backs away to study the blondes face, hesitance keeping him from knowing what to do.

So Daniel raises his hands, tightening them into fists in front of him. He raises an eyebrow at Damon's shaking head.

"We did this. You up for it?" The hint of wicked temptation was impossible to leave out of his tone, a feature that could be used in a hundred different ways. Damon takes on step towards him, looking as if he didn't really believe they truly did this-that they weren't as close as the lab staff claimed. It felt alien yet the desire to mock battle with the older male practically pulled at his muscles. He had too many reasons to walk away. Even so, he charged at Cross.

XxX

Neither would be able to explain what happened-or more specifically what _changed_- in their spar. One moment they were exchanging hits and dodges with an almost equal amount of skill, one wrong step or pause causing one to nail the other. A rare but amusing occurrence in the long period they spent on the wrestling mat.

But then something move-snapped- and the two were no longer against one another in the sense of the word. One would grab the other, moving them fluidly around their body or stopping one impact to encourage another, or deflecting a certain movement and manipulating it into something beneficial for both parties. It was a subtle transition from two opposites clashing together in a clumsy search for something recognizable, into two countering parts turning their butting into melding.

This change in cooperation had the remainders of attendants in the gym watching in curiosity as the totally unaware partners practically danced in a manner that earned neither members attention. It was only when Daniel grew carried away, flipping Damon over his shoulder onto his feet, giving the duo time to step away from one another that the spell broke.

They had time to breathe and that time just put the awkward distance between them again. Because the competitive rush was gone-resetting Daniels bitter opinions and his targets doubt of his position in the ancient pack. Damon was as aired as he could get, his body buzzing with adrenaline and he hoped some sort of natural draw towards the other.

Daniel stared right back at him, no words exchanged as they tried to process what just happened. He didn't even try to pull the buddy card at the moment. He was too caught off guard, too disgusted with the fact he actually got along with the tan male in front of him without any complications. It had been a brief moment of team work. It was enough to make Daniel want to bare his teeth in distaste. How they had both faded into that state was concerning, their skills and style were perhaps too alike to be opponents.

Then their eye lock is done when Damon turns away, huffing a breath that leaves shakier than it should.

"This is too much for a second day." He said to himself, leaving Daniel still regaining breath in the gym as he decided to search for Doctor Swartz-dare even Rikkin. He just needed away from his partner for a moment.

It felt too right and too wrong to be around the latter at the time.

So he went to hunt for Swartz in hopes of some distance between him and his coworker would help is uncertainty.

He finds his authority figure donning over something with an assistant, the entire lab oblivious of the scarred Templar walking through the still perfect lab.

"Hey Swartz-" The aged one jumps at the sound of his experiments voice, scrabbling to nonchalantly change tabs on his laptop. He turns to the young man with a pleasant smile. "Ah, _Mein Sohn_- I apologize I have been busy since this morning. Did Cross treat you well?" The doctor is concerned when Damon flexes his repaired hand.

"Uh, yeah sure-kinda." The professor crosses his arms and gives the altered human an uncertain look, raising a bushy eyebrow. It seems to break Damon's' resolve. He moves in closer so that the other experts can't eavesdrop into their conversation. "None of this feels right. My room doesn't feel like mine. And something about Cross-"

"Daniel."

"Yeah I know. Something about all of this doesn't feel good." Swartz sighs, placing a hand on Damon's' arm in a soft gesture.

"You suffered a great deal of trauma, Damon. Nearly everything you knew was toyed with and altered in your mind. It is going to take time for our procedure to catch up with your personality and memories. As is . Everything you were once comfortable with will take time." Damon lowers his head as Swartz steady hand comes to up to his shoulder to squeeze it. "It is only your second day in recovery, _Mein Sohn_. There is no need to rush things."

Damon shrugs, following the one that woken him towards his terminal.

"So while we're on this topic, did I happen to have a girlfriend?"

"OI."

**Urrrhuur cheesy ass chapter ends. What is this? Cross and Phoenix Des found relatable ground? What could this mean? Whatever you want it too. Des is gonna have his inhibitions for a while. He may have forgotten he was an Assassin but he can't remember being a Templar either. Gonna take allot of convincing. ****(BTW before I get too deep in this fic I'd like a beta please. I feel a need to expand my grammar and I could use the constructive criticism PM me if interested)**


	3. fucking hell i got nothin

**Chapter three is here and ready for reading! Enjoy **

His breath was thin and body ached, but god did it feel good to be doing this! It seemed to be natural, innate. Damon stretched then leaped all across the upper beams, adrenaline coursing through him keeping him from tumbling to certain death. But Damon couldn't deny it was a satisfying, indescribable rush to be up so high where the ground was viciously taunted by his defiance. It was an incredible new angle of perspective that tested his skills and oh; there were no words how strong he felt. But he could sense the end was looming; his legs becoming jelly-like and sweat gathering behind his neck and under his arms as dark collective patterns. Dr. Swartz had explained numerous times how much he used to enjoy this; making trouble with Daniel and scaring the staff by popping up at a random window.

Daniel.

Damon had not seen the elder man as of recent-not since the strange interaction between them in the same gym a week ago. Not that it necessarily bothered the younger Templar that he hadn't seen him. Or did it? Shouldn't it? Wait, this was his friend, ally, and partner from what Swartz told him. The two had been through a lot of laughs and struggles. They had driven the entire building mad once. 'Partners in crime', the elder loyalists called them. And yet…it felt wrong smiling at the older, even cooperating with him. As if something waaaay back in his mind was screaming 'NO DON'T.' It was a nagging feeling that refused to die; Damon desperately yearned to believe what his doctor/friend said but fighting with the fact his inner thoughts fought the spoon fed memories wasn't granting him any closure.

Or was it just Cross he was struggling with? He had spoken with some of the staff and they were great people, it felt natural to melt into conversation with the girls in the reception office and other long term members. And Swartz was as pleasant as he could be. Others however left a heavy weight behind his eyelids, as if he had issues with them in the past. Others like Cross.

Yet with this doubt he found himself craving the company of him as well. There tended to be this sliver of sarcasm embedded in every word he spoke, making it difficult to tell when he was serious or not. His curt reactions paired with this irritable aura around him left curiosity in Damon, wondering what made him so angry. He most likely knew before his accident-something that had taken years of trust and work to be broken free.

He let his weight take him backwards, his legs wrapped securely around the sturdy pole against the back of his knees. The world goes upside down, his shirt giving way to gravity just like the blood to his head. He lets himself hang there as the noises of other attending gym participants do their routine, totally clueless to the recovering asset above them. It's amusing yet saddening for some hidden reason. His head becomes heavy. But he doesn't quite yet rise, finding the change in focus to leave a tint of comfort in his mind. Something being absolutely opposite of everyone felt a bit more right than being part of major brotherhood like Abstergo.

"I'm not attending the funeral if you break your neck." A voice calls loud enough to reach the ceiling and Damon's ears. The young man craned his neck in an awkward 360 degrees to spot the figure of the missing agent. What is Daniel doing here now? He crosses his arms over his chest, finding enough power to ever so lightly swing displaying the defiance he felt.

"You're wouldn't be invited anyway." He sniped back, noting the change in the other's demeanor. He seemed more comfortable than he had the previous time he had seen him. Cross just stood there shaking his head with hands planted on his hips.

"Well either you climb down or fall down; either way I could care less but Rikkin needs to speak with us." Offering a snide rebuttal was highly tempting and Damon finds his mouth acting before his brain could intervene. "You haven't been here all week and that's it?" It's too far a distance for Cross to catch the narrowing of his bright green eyes, but he hopes that he can detect his dissatisfaction.

But still Damon obeys, hoisting himself up and quickly maneuvering before he can fall, coming to his feet and leaping from one platform to another then coming to rest on a sturdy piece of equipment before taking the short leap down and in front of his companion.

Daniel did indeed look better-more rested and content with his dirty blonde hair in a careful spike. The aggravation was still etched into his face and eyes still held same bitterness as before. But in the broader scope of things, the older Templar looked much more approachable. Even Damon was beginning to tak on a healthier aura, growing aware of his environment and regaining his senses.

The two survey one another in a spout of awkward silence, older events replaying over at each other's presence. Damon wondered if it was he himself that suddenly made the other vanish then suddenly reappear. Insecurity had been something he had kept at bay as to not concern Swartz. The awkward silence was broken when Daniel inhaled, releasing the breath in a tight puff of air.

"We should get going, Colt." Damon narrows his eyes again, watching Daniel's back leave him in the occupied gym with disinterest. Tightness coils his stomach that leaves a bitter taste in the back of his throat and tongue as he hurries to catch up with Daniel. So much for a warm welcome…

"Well hello to you too." He quipped following the other through the pristine walkways of the Abstergo building. It felt the same day was playing out in a vicious cycle of people saying hello and acting as if the the youngest member had never gone missing. Damon found it unnerving all of a sudden-as if his growth in awareness and independence just made him uneasy with their familiarity.

He just couldn't maintain a grip on his past aside from recalling Cross's face and Italy and…a white beard. It was hard to keep a hold on things. It was causing his head hurt and he didn't exactly derive pleasure from igniting concern in Swartz with the smallest glimpse of agony. The airy minded Doctor was consistently hanging around or in close proximity in an anxious cloud of questions; asking if his muscles were sore at all, checking his eyes, testing his reflexes, and seeming relieved after his latest blood test. Damon was beginning to liken the man to an overbearing father whose son was recovering from a football injury in high school.

He never asked about the constant battery of tests and veiled interrogations; well at least for the time being. He had only been starting to fall into routine. Let the doctor do his coddling. Besides, he was sure restoring him to full health had its risks and Swartz was simply asserting his position as doctor and care giver to the young man.

His line of thought was stopped when he bumped into Daniel who had stopped at the same meeting room Damon had been introduced in a few days before. Steely eyes that made him think of traps locked dead onto his weary emerald orbs. Daniel arched an eyebrow before giving the younger man a short push towards the door.

Damon was horribly aware of how clearly Daniel could see the apprehension within the amber flecks but nodded anyways, knowing whether he was ready or not they were going in. Daniel pushed open the and the younger is instantly reminded of his awakening and of the deep absorbing pain that was so intense it saturated through bone into marrow. He vividly recalled the blinding light and Swartz's voice speaking in high eager tones once he had awakened and regaining his motor skills among other things.

It wasn't quite as overwhelming as it was interesting.

"Ah boys it's good to see you." A strong but grainy voice booms across the room with the slightest crackle of video conversation. On a wide flat screen in the center of the conference table was the face of Alan Rikkin. His hands were folded immaculately on top of one another on the organized desk in front of him. Damon was a bit lost, only having his one brief conversation with the superior a week before when he was introduced. The only thing he could think of was offering a weak wave, letting his hand slap his thigh as it came down. Daniel threw a glance his way, pissed at the childish display. But Damon retaliated to the silent scolding by making a face at the previously absent Templar. He felt a bit too much of pride when the older widened his eyes at his behavior.

Rikkin cleared his throat and regained the attention of the bickering acquaintances, the two men appearing rather sheepish.

"Well its clear Mr. Colt that you are becoming quite content here." A soft smile graces the man's age defying face that has Damon looking down to his feet. He was the new kid after all and hearing Rikkin's words seemed like some strange kind of praise; like at parent teach conferences and being told how well adjusted he was. Daniel caught this movement and rolled his eyes, having the sudden urge to smack the other.

"Doctor Swartz kept me updated on a regular basis with his results-it's looking like not only are you meeting our expectations, but you're near exceeding them only within a week-"

"I'm guessing this is good." Daniel interjected, impatiently crossing his arms over his chest. He knew Rikkin was merely buttering up the lone Colt in line for something. The man on the screen must have caught his tone, gaze holding a flicker of criticism before he continued.

"These outcomes are fantastic in every word. But sadly you still need assistance with your retraining; which, is where you come in, Mr. Cross." Daniel felt a hot flash flare through his spine, harsh eyes intensifying in a patronizing glare. It was the best he could do for an objection at the moment. He succeeded in erasing the expression from his face when he and Damon simultaneously trade a glance with the younger's eyes holding apprehension and nervousness. It may have been Daniel's imagination but his eyes appeared just a tad darker than they were last week.

Their connection was broken when Damon snaps his head away in a motion that certainly meant 'yeah, right.' The blonde sneered towards his cheek. What a little shit!

"Dare I ask; what's my part?" He grinds out in the best effort to appear genuinely interested. Only a week in (neglecting the fact that wasn't there for that week) and he was blowing the friend façade big time. It was obvious their boss caught on to the complicated tension, a shade of corporate concern cracking his mask. He straightens, his voice darkened taking on a more authoritative and deeper aura.

"I'm recommending that you Mr. Cross train Mr. Colt. It will perhaps make things easier to remember if he has a familiar companion assisting him." Daniel wanted to bare his teeth, lash out, yell, curse and cause chaos as if he still had an endless list of drugs thrumming through his hot blood. Here they go again with dumping the new asset on him like he was some butler that would gladly take care of their expense!

But his heavy set boss was watching him, ready to rebutte his refusal. Instead with every fiber of strength he has, he relaxes his shoulders and carefully nudges the should-be-dead body next to him.

"Why not. Worth a try." The look Damon sends him practically needs an answering one. Daniel fights that impulse as well and sends the younger a charming smirk. This catches him off guard as it becomes his turn to widen his eyes. From this point on, Daniel really had to play the friend role or else the project will go to shit. He really didn't want to be remembered as the asshole that ruined a two billion dollar project. Well, he was already an asshole. So let's keep it at that.

The acceptation pleases Rikkin as the small eyes brightened into an almost disturbing rangeof giddiness.

"Excellent!" He praises as he grins charmingly towards his prized followers. "I'll be sure to inform the physicians and Doctor Swartz of these changes." He eagerly clicks a few things on his keyboard. He flicks his wrist towards the door.

"On your way gentlemen. I have much work to do." He begins to fervently scribble away on paper in front of him. Daniel is the first to leave, pushing the door open with his back and strolling out of the meeting room. He doesn't need to look to know who it is when he picks up on a weight near him.

"You're one complicated guy." Damon comments, his confusion and distress leaking through him. Not only did he not have a say to his 'buddy' training him, he knew damn well that the individual didn't want to. Not too long ago he refused to hold eye contact or even have a decent conversation with him. He held back the desire to shove Daniel through a window when he shrugs.

Damon stops and spreads his arms in the man's way, stopping his steady rhythm. The eyes that had avoided his many times calmly waited for whatever it was he had to say. The sudden change only pulls Damon deeper into his un-aimed anger. "No seriously, you've hardly talked to me, you avoid me, we get along one day and you fucking vanish without a word. And now you want to be my trainer?! What is up with you? Everyone keeps saying we're friends but I don't see it!"

Both stood directly across one another in the hall, Daniel noting that once again Damon was flexing his right hand. What can he say that's not too unbelievably cheesy? Or fake? More specifically something that wouldn't make him seem like a pathetic wuss.

"It's hard." He finally musters, loosening his stance and slowly meeting eyes with the angered experiment.

"What's hard?" Damon demands with not patience for games. They welcome him yet that keep him in the dark and it's become severely irritating within his short (appallingly short) time in the building. In what used to be his family he didn't feel like a member, no matter the amount of lavish treatment he was given. Daniel sighed as he took a few steps towards the taller man.

"Hard having to start over," he shrugged with indifference. Daniel wants to smirk when Damon's eyes soften just enough to show he understands what he means. "We weren't friends off the bat ya know. Took a hell of a lot of time and not to mention assignments that we'll never be able to do again and those things you've totally forgotten is what started our relationship. It's hard to restart that without the support of that."

Damon drops his eyes to the floor, where his sneakers and Daniels boots rest. It's troubling to know that he's forgotten everything that made them who they were as partners and as friends. He could see why Daniel would struggle with trying to replenish the closeness they shared before his capture. His distance was the lack of belief that Damon was able to hold the loyalty they had before. Without the amount of problems and solutions they had faced together. But that didn't explain…

"Then why the one-eighty in the attitude?" He retorted with that fiery distrust that had fueled the first outburst. There is something horribly familiar about the vacancy that clears away the boiling resentment off of Daniel's features. When he bows his head, something about his face changes and Damon catches sight of that other side of t Cross locked away that fed off the resentment clear in his tone and posture.

"Like I said back in the meeting room; it's worth a try." The double meaning hits Damon like a rock, freezing his body still where he stood as Daniel lifted a hand to pat his arm in an almost endearing manner.

Then he merely walks away.

Damon didn't feel the need to follow him but swallowed up by the near dizzying amount of thoughts swimming through his brain.

_Daniel good._

_No._

_Daniel bad._

_Since when?_

_Was he really?_

_Jesus Christ why was the room so bright._

_Should I catch up to him?_

_Should I leave?_

There was no end to the short but impactful messages going through his mind as he stood in the lighted hallway. The conflicting emotions that were paired with Daniel's company nibbled at his ear until he quite literally itched. He was broken; that was pretty clear considering his situation and what graphic details he's been told. He had been taken apart and manipulated. Used for profit of weakness to the Templars by the Assassins in a bloody brawl that left both sides lacking a sort of strength.

But he was back. But was he really? He had no memories of the place. He wasn't useful right now…as far as he could tell.

Yes, he had to be of some worth or else there would have been no reason to rejuvenate him as thoroughly as they had. He was worth something.

Yet that heavy pushpin in his chest argued with him.

He shook his head in frustration before the touch of Daniels' hand comes back. It's just a ghost of the impact. The friendly interaction that made Damon freeze in the first place as he pondered Daniel's words. Would it truly be that hard to just give things a try? An attempt to drift back into the cluster that had returned him to the world of the living, back to the ones who swore and claimed he was one of them. He honestly couldn't answer that so early in his lucidness.

There was only way to tell if he wanted a straight answer. He took an exhausted sigh and broke his stillness with a roll of his neck and adjustment of his legs. His hands clump inside his jeans pockets as his tongue runs over his teeth in thought.

"Worth a try." He echoes in a hesitant voice. He can still see Daniel ahead: a shrinking silhouette trotting towards the end of the extended hallway. The metaphor does not need to be voiced to snake through the hole in Damon's wall. "Guess it is... Hey, Daniel wait up!" He calls, breaking into a jog towards the paused figure. "Look I'm starving and since we are partners….Well did you want to head down to the cafeteria?" If not anything else, Daniel was worth the try.

**Heck yeah done! *happy dance* I'm getting more comfortable with this so guess what-more inspiration which means improving chapters. Especially since I now have a beta :3 See ya next chapter**.


	4. Failure

**Chapter 4! Interest is picking up and I'm getting excited!**

"I believe it's time for your blood test, _Mein Sohn_."

**THWAP**

"Doc, can this wait for a few seconds?"

**SMACK**

"Ugh!"

Doctor Swartz studied in concern as Damon dodged the violent fist that would have met his chest, movements rapid and almost mechanical. Its owner wasted no time aiming for another try, Damon grabbing his new trainer's arm with pristine grace, and slamming the entire body down to the mats. The awful thump that echoed through the gymnasium had the medical expert grimacing with anxiety and patrons turning their heads in concern. Dear lord these two were going to tear down the building…

Sharp emeralds faded down towards Daniel, who was now lying angrily beneath the younger. A grin was his prize for his smarting over this latest defeat and soured his mood even further. But Daniel wasn't one to admit defeat or surrender so soon. His eyes spotted an opportunity. Damon didn't see the flash of skin grappling the side of the sneaker until the air around him shifted around him and the side of his body was kissing the unforgiving mat. A spiteful smirk illuminated the blonde's face as he pinned his squirming target to the same mat his body had recently met, one hand placed expertly on his neck and the other pressed painfully into his spine.

"Ugh okay I see the lesson in this. Now get the HELL off!" But Daniel ignored the whining plea and maneuvered himself so his posterior is settled on the others back.

"Fucking hell Cross!" The new pressure on his spine had Damon kicking and wiggling to inch out from Cross' weight, finding the joke a bit too embarrassing given the attention both had mustered from the others in the room. Daniel merely moved with Damon's struggles, the smirk holding far too much enjoyment. Damon wondered if his partner was depriving some sadistic joy from this.

"Say uncle first."

"Uncle my ass! Get off me!" Daniel's wickedly devious grin answered the demand, rising then harshly falling back onto the body. Damon shot an almost deadly glare towards the heavier male, grappling hand full of cloth to drag his counterpart down with him. In the end Damon managed to pivot his hips, putting the heels of his feet into Daniel's hips and fling his trainer off him concluding the unorthodox sparring session. Swartz sighed in annoyance, coming between the two bickering men and taking Damon's shirt by the collar.

"Come along now." Swartz tugged his ward through the hall leaving Daniel in the gym. Damon snarled and angrily called back to Daniel with a dramatic "This isn't over!" Swartz didn't find it very amusing with his audible groan. Damon merely snickered and trudged along as they traversed to the doctor's office. The sight was quite a change of pace for other workers strolling through the hall. The doctor was not a tall man. He wasn't even stout. He was a 5'5 fifty-five year old with a lankly build and Einstein like hair, making him impossible to appear intimidating.

He was respected, but not feared in any form.

And this lack of physical advance was only defined when next to the six foot recruit. Damon never pointed it out; sometimes it seemed he didn't even notice the size difference, seeking the elder's company very often. He never really paid attention to their size or age difference, finding genuine interest in the Doctor that not even the man that hired him could display. Swartz's irritation melts away the closer they get to his work space, loosening his grip on the young man's collar as well with each step taken. The boy was near impossible to stay mad at.

"Now set your ass right there while I get my things." Damon obeyed, rolling up his sleeve to ready himself for the needle that was sure to pierce his skin like last time. Within his few weeks in the building, Damon had memorized Swartz office top to bottom; from the pleasant photo of the ocean, to the ransacked desk. Most people felt anxiety in an office littered with acute, expensive equipment. Not Damon. Perhaps it was because he knew the hands that worked them meant no harm.

Swartz reappeared with a simple case housing a stethoscope, needles and a few other items Damon had yet to learn the names of. The case is set next to his thighs as the Doctor begins to prepare the syringe, humming as he does so. He then wipes at the inside of his patient's elbow, giving the needle a flick. He sends a smile Damon's way before taking the man's arm with the fatherly delicacy he's shown since day one.

"You are getting rather good at this." He comments, feeling the need to delay the small action for a millisecond. Damon smirks and faintly feels the fine tip of the needle prod through his skin, watching the crimson liquid fill the thin container. It was strange to see such a thing as your blood taken away so easily, to think all it takes is something sharp enough to pierce the surface your skin.

"Well after about five times I'm kinda numb to it." But not the feelings that come after his shots and tests; the soft tingle left behind insisted to itch at his arm until he gave in and wiped ointment on it. Or at worst actually scratch at it and earned a lecture about acquiring an infection because bacteria resided underneath his nails. Swartz sends him an encouraging wink, pulling the needle out carefully. Damon helped himself to the band aids.

"Now, to the fun part." Swartz stated jokingly as he expertly twirled the thin vile of blood through his fingers. "Anything you need examined? Pains, dizziness?" The brunette shook his head and slid off the soft confines of the medical bed. Swartz quickly placed the container of blood into a slot of a box like machine, pressing a few buttons that made it purr into doing its job. This always made him anxious, dreading the result that would show the small red light indicating failure in one of the many changes in Damon's body. It was Russian roulette until either the white or red light came up, and indicated if Damon was safe…or not so safe.

He could hear the young man shuffle about for the unexplained news, fiddling with one of the many trinkets scattered around Swartz office. The elder shook his head. So childlike without even attempting. The machine that harbors the Doctor's anxiety gives its sharp beep, demanding attention.

Donavan couldn't stop the shuddering breath of relief that racked his lungs. White. The light was the intense, creamy white it had been for every test. This was a good sign, but until Damon reached his recovery deadline it would be a tightrope walk with his blood and organs.

"As always, healthy as a horse, _Mein Sohn_." Damon chuckled as he leaned against the disaster of a desk behind him. It's a tranquil moment that hits Swartz right in the heart; the fact Damon is able to appear so casual in his presence in his few weeks since resurrection.

"Shall we test your reflexes, or is what I saw in the gym enough?" Damon grinned proudly, his equality in skill with his older companion making their training that much more interesting and unpredictable. The doctor rolled his eyes, using as much strength as he could muster to chuck a paper weight across the room right towards his patient's nose.

He caught it without a glance, his expression unchanged from the smirk that had snuck onto his face. He clicked his tongue tinged with the defiance he oh so often felt. Why? He wasn't quite sure. "Gotta be faster than that Doc."

With that, he left the little medical room, tossing a lazy smile the seniors' way along with the paper weight as he shut the door.

Said Doctor set his hands on hips, shaking his head in an amused sort of confusion. "Aye…"

**OoO**

"Rikkin messaged me." Daniel announced, interrupting Damon's massive bite of pasta.

"Hmm?"

The older Templar wasn't eating but simply lounging with his 'new' friend against one of the many windows across the empty halls. Their interactions were still somewhat awkward and distant, conversation rare. But they grew used to each other's presence in an almost sluggish unwilling travel upstairs. They were quite far from the image of two good friends the entire building had perceived, but they were being civil. As long as they were in the solitary presence of only each other.

It appeared Damon was anxious around large crowds. And Daniel felt no desire to be ogled by simpletons that couldn't fathom him getting along with someone who wasn't a sadistic bastard like himself.

The emerald orbs that were Damon's iris's came to him in curiosity, lunch forgotten by the mention of their all superior. Strangely, they once again seemed to be darker than their very first eye lock. They were still intensely bright, still strong enough to be seen with ease across a room. But appeared darker. He patiently waited for a continuation of his acquaintances statement, the silence of the usually puttering halls making the pause seem deathly hollow.

"And?" He probed as he began to pick at the noodles in his Styrofoam bowl. Daniel rolled his tongue in consideration, the pen between his fingers being flipped absent mindedly. He forgot he was supposed to be working. How to voice the rather traumatic news was keeping Daniels voice box out of use.

"He wants you to go on our next purge." The tension that had been almost non-existent burst into a heavy cloud of hesitance and uncertainty. "…He thinks you're ready." Daniel however, heavily objected to his boss' statement, explaining that every deadline made for the resurrected ex-assassin wasn't even close; that the possibility of triggering memories was still too great. Rikkin had made a rather smug comment of Daniel caring for his fading enemy. It was offensive for reasons Daniel didn't care to remember. Here he was walking around eggshells to earn the taller man's loyalty and then there's his _freaking crazy_ boss thinking they can just throw him into a fight against his former allies!

**A MONTH INTO THE FUCKING PROJECT!**

Last they tried to control anything too soon, Vidic ended up dead, and Daniel came close to sharing the same fate.

Daniel had to painfully grind his teeth as not to curse all that was around him. He had been the one warned not to toy with and tarnish all the work Swartz had put into the green eyed corpse, but it turned out he was not going to be the one to ruin this after all.

Rikkin was reckless, but Daniel had no say and he knew this wasn't going to end well.

"Huh?" It was a common reaction from Damon by now; the first few of small things Daniel had picked up on. Along with the tans' tendency to let his once damaged hand twitch and flex more than the other. A tick that meant there was a something on his mind; he usually voiced it after some coaxing of sort.

"Rikkin thinks you're ready for an area purge. Apparently some assassins have been snooping around near here." The explanation came in a steady stream, slurred by Daniel's Russian twang and his own laziness of pronunciation.

Damon blinked in surprise as the words registered in his brain. He felt worry increase as none other than his father figure doctor came to mind; surely Donovan didn't know about this. He would tear down his office in a fit of anxiety and distress at the thought of his success being shoved into open fire nowhere near the safety of deadlines.

"Swartz isn't going to like that." Obviously.

"I know." Of course you do.

"How-"

"He already made his statement…"

"And?"

"And Rikkin has agreed to keep you out of immediate danger." Though Swartz was in no way frightening physically, you couldn't help but become confused when he began yelling in German and going red in the face. There was fear of him dying due to cardiac arrest though… Threats of leaving were his only weapon in taming the almost uncontrollable leader of the Templars, knowing he was one of the best scientists they had and without him there was a possibility of downfall.

If he knew any better, the boss would notice the connection between the victim of their project and its upholder. But he was dense and wouldn't notice or care of such a thing.

Damon continued to purse his lips, lunch totally forgotten as the realization of possibly being part of such things came to terms. Even he himself knew he wasn't ready for missions, or purges or anything of that category. He could feel how strong he had become and his mind was a constant stream of easily processed information; but yet there was that comprehension that has prevented many other things still lingering in said advanced mind.

"So where does that leave me?" He asked as Daniel rose and stretched from his long term spot against the window. The sigh that leaves the ex-druggie is drawn out, touched with the disapproval obvious in his tone. Daniel was shockingly readable when he carefully lowered the wall of anger and intimidation from around him, showing something darker but less defensive. Either one could frightening, Daniel nothing but a sold form of violence and harsh words that pushed everyone around him into shadows. Desmond was an open book; unintentional wide eyed interest and a smile that made nearly every female specimen in the building blush like school girls. He voiced his concerns in a steady, tentative voice. He was almost the spitting image of rationality. While Daniel was none of that.

They were indeed polar opposites.

But that grin-the wicked, devious quirk of the blonde's lips arrives, signaling to Damon that he was in the hands of Cross once again. His arms-under closer inspection were wryly, not at all massive as you'd think a master Templars' would-drop to his sides after his cat-like stretch.

"You'll be joining me." The tilt of the tan's head shows his curiosity towards the vagueness of the statement. In the very pit of his stomach, there was also a shrivel of dread.

"…"

OoO

"Should I trust you behind a wheel?" Damon mutters in concern of his own life as Daniel nonchalantly cuts through traffic. The several horns that poured after had the horrified passenger shrinking in to his seat. He couldn't help but pull the thin snow hat given to him by Swartz as they taken another threatening swerve across the street.

Thank god they weren't somewhere like New York; they'd be dead by now.

"Relax I'm not gonna crash. The Doc would have an aneurism if I did."

"_I'm_ going to have one!" Daniel didn't even glance at the slouching body as he jerked the bulky black van through a yellow light. Damon hissed in anxiety as a semi barely skimmed the vehicle. Cross's only response was to throw his middle finger through the window. His eyes were focused but dark as he continued swerving through traffic like the vehicles around him were stopped. Damon compared the cold stare to one of a demon's. Why did he think that?

"Jesus! And this is safer than on ground action?!" He desperately gripped at his acquaintances heavy leather jacket as they just barely missed a biker. "Fuck I'm going to die thanks to your grand theft auto education!" The evil grin that spread across the latter's face was more frightening than the looming traffic cones ahead, Daniel clonking through them without a bat of an eyelash, barely missing pedestrians as well. While Damon released his very first scream since his awakening, trying to find comfort in his one strap seatbelt. Where the hell were the authorities?

"When this is over I'm pulling a restraining order against you!"

"Nah you'd miss me." The driver shot back as he bombarded across the streets towards their destination. Damon merely covered his eyes in hopes of dying quickly; his only last wish was Daniel would be thrown through the window in the process. Then as abruptly as all the fear and anxiety with the ride came, the van screeched to a stop in front of a low maintained warehouse. Damon breathed a sigh of relief and finally straightened from his attempt at melting into the seats. He was shaking quite awfully, legs trembling when he exits the vehicle.

"You're insane! I should've stayed back…" He muttered miserably while he tried to stay on his own two feet. He felt sick to his stomach from the sudden turns and his brain was throbbing miserably against his skull form the adrenaline. He was tried now, deciding to slide down a brick wall and sit with his head between his knees. At the moment he was a child, wanting to go back home to the safe confines of Swartz office or his room. Daniel was a mad man with a winner's face and dear god Damon fell for it hard. Now he was god knows where doing god knows what for some damn purge and he was definitely not ready for so much excitement!

Maybe he was overreacting. He had done this stuff for years before without missing a beat. But then why was everything so loud? Why was his entire body quivering in terror? He was going to be honest, he was scared.

He was scared of what was around him because all he really knew was the inside of Abstergo. Rikkin had said he had forgotten everything of his past, apparently that included his awareness of what surrounded him. He didn't know what to do and Daniel wasn't _anyhelpanddeargodheneededswartzhewaspanicking!_

That's where Daniel found him; shaking with his now sweaty head between his trembling knees and body stiff as stiff could be. "The hell's wrong with you?" The mess of man flinched of the suddenness of his voice, recoiling deeper into himself. "Colt." It's a warning, an opportunity to pull it together and be ready to leave. But the young Templar ignores it as breathing becomes difficult, hands scrabbling around light jeans. Daniel studies the scene at a loss. Swartz never mentioned this as a side effect…

"Damon. What is going on?" When Damon looks up his, pupils are nothing more than the size of a pin head, his skin looks ashen and the expression on his face says he might vomit any second. He opens his mouth but all he accomplishes is gawking at Daniel like a fish without water. "You've gotta speak, dumb ass." But the helpless subject doesn't respond to the insult, falling to his side still curled in a ball. His entire body violently shaking as he turned unresponsive. His breathing was harder and out of control as his heart raced threatening to erupt from its bony cage. The poor bastard was hyperventilating!

Okay, now Daniel should probably be worried. Damon wasn't cooperating, he was barely moving-and the purge wasn't going to be attempted for a few more minutes. So the goatee bearing accomplice did something he'd e never see himself doing.

"Alpha this is transport. Send another escape vehicle…my colleague is having complications." Just in time too, as Damon released something of a grunt and screech.

OoO

"I knew it had been a terrible idea! Aye I the poor boy couldn't process all that excitement in one sitting! His brain activity is at an all-time high and his stress level was off the charts! That _damn_ Rikkin! _Gott möge mich zurück von meiner Wut!"_

Daniel stood aside as Swartz paced and shouted in German, running his hands through his hair. Damon sat half asleep behind them both, having needed a sedative to calm down long enough for his heart rate to level out. They were currently waiting for Rikkin to contact them via video chat like his declaration of Damon's strength.

"Doc, what exactly happened? Was it a relapse?" Daniel ground out as he prevented Damon from vaulting forward to the ground. The doctor stopped his angry muttering to fall into a contemplative stance.

"I do not wish to say this, but I believe our dear Colt had a panic attack." Daniel widened his gaze when the words registered his vocal chords.

"A panic attack…"

"You see, I fear his constant time in this facility made him adapt only here. And with the mixture of your awful driving-"

This earned the eldest a sneer. "-and the new atmosphere, I believe Damon experienced sensory overload which morphed into a panic attack." Damon raised his head for a millisecond before his chin dropped back to his collar bone. Crap.

"This is not permanent. Just visits outside and around the area will help." Swartz finished the sentence by carefully running a worked hand across the service of Demons' speckled hair. This earned him an answering nudge. The grey haired mans' face did not remain tender forever, creases darkening in the anger that had been forgotten at the mention of his experiments condition. "But I will indeed be speaking to Mr. Rikkin of his rushed request. Passenger or leader, Damon had no knowledge of what to do. The few self-defense lessons he had is not enough."

Daniel was not quite sure how to respond. He was tempted to darkly quip of Swartz own mistake of not seeing the outcome, but that would only earn him a shouting German.

"So," He prompts, hand rising to smack Damon's lulling head. "Does this delay anything?" Swartz shook his head.

"No…it only proves caution is a larger priority than previously established."

They both watch Damon slowly let his lids shield his harsh green eyes, a groan coming from his mouth.

Yes, caution.

Something they had neglected far too soon.

**Uh oh, looks like blames in every direction right now. Now this may seem unnecessary, but it's to build Daniels and Damon/Desmond's relationship a bit higher before shit goes down…cuz a lot will in the future. Plus I'm sure you saw difficulties coming with all the progress.**


	5. Misconsemptions

**I'm likin the progress I'm making J hopefully I can have this tastefully ended before school starts again and give myself some time for another story. (If you lovelies want that)**

It's a dangerous game he's grown to liking, using his agility and pristine grace to taunt the looming threats below. It elicits a rush through him words failed to grasp…In its absence a hollow sense of longing fills the gap in him that can't be quenched unless he's out there, walking the fine line between life and death.

He spins, his heart giving a shudder as the toes of his shoes brush over the edge of the building. Yes, it's a very dangerous game; one that Swartz would personally slaughter him for if he knew what his prized experiment did in his free time.

Ever since his breakdown with Daniel, Swartz had kept him at a mere arms distance to constantly observe and test him. Most of the time spent he was supposedly observing Damon, Swartz would be constantly bombarding him, "How are you feeling? How is your heart rate? Do you need anything?"

He wouldn't let Daniel anywhere near him for the same amount of time; whether it be a perfectly logical reason, or the doctor's over protective ways that led to the constant clashing between the two men. Damon didn't actually have any interest to know nor did he actually care at this point.

The distance from his slow healing friendship was a bit stress relieving... It helped being away from another source of his insecurities for a while. But still, being with Swartz as long as he had left him needing some negativity, some pessimist views in his conversation. And Daniel was the ticket to a cold splash of reality everyone needed once in a while. He wasn't everyone's favorite person to talk to for many reasons and admittedly, Damon's social stand points weren't very strong due to his connection to Daniel. No one was exactly clamoring to ask him out for drinks after work. But by god the man was smart; smarter than people would give him credit for. He held a sharp wit and a merciless tongue that could either be amusing, or horrifying. For Damon it was neither…it was interesting. Cross had this way of pulling you in if you sat and listened, short bursts of different twangs and accents reaching specific words, his hands being unable to resist moving with his words.

God why was it whenever he was alone he always ended up philosophizing his relationship with Cross?! He growled in irritation with himself, suddenly craving Swartz's presence once again. He really was getting too clingy with the elder. He couldn't help it though; he needed something to balance the distance of the Abstergo staff and the fiery harshness of Daniel. But Swartz? Swartz was gentle but firm, humorous but not foolish. He was a comfort to Damon in far too many ways for such a brief span. Many things were worming their ways into his trust far too quickly…

Glazed eyes glide back into focus at the subtle rustle of clothing and well-padded shoes against the concrete of the facility. Damon knows who it is without needing to look back, stance staying passive to fool his companion. He hears another soft sound, a gentle whoosh of air being the only warning he has.

He dodges the lidded cup with ease, peering down to watch the plastic fall to its demise below with a _kroosh_ as its contents splashed onto the ground.

"You're lucky that was complimentary, dipshit!" Daniel snarls, crossing his arms as the jacket clad man turns to meet his eyes. Fuck, there's that stupid grin again; the one that says Daniel isn't scaring him one bit with his hidden threats and harsh words.

"Awe, sweet talk me some more Cross." Daniel bares his teeth in a wordless response. Damon tips his head just a tad to fully acknowledge his presence. "'Sides, I thought you hated fountain drinks."

"It wasn't soda, it was tea."

"Pfft, you were drinking tea?" He mocked in light disbelief that someone so rigid and hard like Daniel would drink _tea_ of all things. But they seemed to always be surprising one another.

"Shut the fuck up I drink what I want." Damon still doesn't turn to his more experienced partner, but he can still see the notch of his shoulders that signals he's grinning.

"The hell are you doing up here anyway? You're usually playing house with Swartz." Damon ignores the insult, pivoting around fast enough to make him stumble towards the edge a tad. Daniel tries to ignore the awful twinge of dread he feels until Damon is righted again. He convinces himself that it'd be expensive to repair him for a second time, it's absolutely nothing sentimental. Natta.

"Thinking, mostly." A scoff is what he earns for such a cliché answer.

"Right, looking over a five story drop is how all normal people get the wheels turning." He's genuinely surprised when Damon drops down from his little ledge, coming close enough to Daniel that he can see that little nick of a scar. The close proximity is becoming ever so slowly more familiar. They're far from 'bro hugs' and friendly shoves, but Daniel no longer feels the urge to shove Damon ten feet away at the sight of him.

"You know, I've never seen you smile 'til now." The fuck? There's an awkward silence accompanied by the comment, the older Templar at a loss for words at the gentle statement. But the shock wears off and Daniel non-committed brushes by the tan, giving him a not so friendly smack to the head. Damon doesn't react to the light blow, his body quite used to Daniel's random spouts of abuse. Whether it be verbally or physically, he had a retaliation plan. Daniel was starting to develop the habit of looking over his shoulder after giving a blow to Desmond. The young man was patient. That was dangerous.

"You should do that more often."

"What? Hit you? You got some secret kink I should know about?"

"Psh, like I'd share that with you. I meant smiling you cynic." Damon steps a few feet away, building a lazy stroll around the area that has become a sort of sanctuary.

"I smile plenty."

"That demonic grin of yours doesn't count." It was more satanic, but Damon didn't feel like getting pushed off the building.

"You little-"

"Shit, yeah I know. You're not so scary when you actually look human." Damon dodges the flying foot wear with ease, his own devious smirk stretching his lips as Daniel tromps to retrieve his boot. He hated this part of the dead assassin, the brazen humor that ate at his insides with anger. But he didn't admire the other side of him, the freshly awoken Damon.

It appeared toying with someone's memories only got rid of certain qualities; it didn't give you a fresh slate to carve at your will. There would always be scratches and dents left from previous use, and you had to make do with what you got. Admittedly though, this stubborn and snarky blend of two irritating sides- one absolutely spineless and doubtful of every move others made, mixed with that slight smug, overly laid back ghost- created someone quite tolerable…on a certain level that is.

Damon was much more entertaining with a daily sharpening tongue and a sliver of loyalty to the Templar position.

He was getting better; with everything. And he showed promise as more than just another recruit plucked from the streets.

"I'm flattered at your attention, but I came to get your dumb off ass this roof." Damon raised an eyebrow at the sudden change of subject, hands cradled in the pockets of his blood red jacket.

"Oh? Thought maybe you were attempting to flirt with me." He dodges the angry hand that aims for his head, cackling as he escapes Daniels flailing fit only to feel a strong arm loop around his neck. He continued to snicker no matter how intensely Daniel snarled.

"Swartz wants to talk to you downstairs. He'd had come get you himself he knew where you were." Daniel released him, practically chucking the younger towards the door. Damon merely chuckled and strolled off with a wave. That fucking kid.

Daniel pursed his lips in exhaustion; Damon was becoming exactly what Rikkin had wanted. He believed Daniel was his best friend, he believed he had been there since he was a teen…he believed everything Swartz threw at him. He sighed, curiously eyeing the area Damon had been effortlessly balancing on.

He peered over the edge and immediately regretted it, his stomach performing a flip and the air from his lungs rushing out in one gust. It wasn't quite a tumble off a porch. It was a plummet, just enough time for it to register that you would die, maybe release a scream. But it would be a quick death. You'd think all his time in the Animus would make him tolerant to heights; make him able to leap across platforms at dizzying scales.

But he hadn't been in one for years now. After he became a highly ranked member he no longer had time for sessions, and his body knew it.

He reeled back and puffed a sigh. Damon had just been standing there like it was nothing, like it wasn't obvious one misstep could happen and he was done for.

And that worried Daniel. He would need to bring it up with Swartz…

Oxo

"Ahh, there you are _Mein Sohn_." Swartz set his experienced hands on the sides of Damon's head, giving his experiment an affectionate smile. The younger returned it with a grin.

"Hey, Doc. Cross said you wanted something." Swartz held a finger in realization.

"Ah yes, I need to examine your ears."

"For what?" Damon non-ceremoniously set his himself onto the medical bed, the paper crunching to his weight. He watched Swartz scramble around his disastrous office like every visit, the elder muttering scolding to himself about his lack of organization.

"Why didn't Mr. Cross tell you? You two are going to the shooting range today." When Donavan turned to find the surprise and confusion on Damon face, he made a note to give Cross a good talking to. That damn man was going to have another panic attack on his hands if he wasn't truthful and careful with Damon. "I will take that as a no." Damon swallowed a lump in his throat, thinking of the brief discussions with his trainers about the parts and pieces of a gun. He had listened, but had never believed he would actually hold one, use one.

He came out of his thoughts when he felt Swartz' cool hands on his neck, and the nozzle of an otoscope invading his ear. There was silence as he inspected Damon's ears; checking their noise sensitivity, massaging the cartilage between his fingers, and like the fidgety man he was-inspected a few off chart things that concerned him.

"Well, your ears should be able to handle the noise if you wear a strong pair of ear mufflers. Your hearing is far too strong for you to go without them." He proceeded to mutter to himself of the side effects and other small issues only Swartz would honestly care about. He truly did baby Damon. There was no other definition to explain his connection to the younger; he had been there at the very front for his awakening, and made sure he was the one to keep the once dead individual stable. He made sure Damon was treated as a person, not an asset. "I'd run off now; lord knows when Cross will burst-"

"C'mon garden eyes, we're headin out." Swartz sighed in exasperation. Speak of the devil-no matter how much you hope he won't- and he shall appear. Especially a man like Cross…Swartz informed himself, tossing a glance over his shoulder as Damon slid off the medical bed.

"I know where we're going."

"I figured Swartz would tell ya. Now let's get a move on." Daniel casually booted Damon on his bottom as he passed by through the door. He couldn't help but smirk towards the series of curses thrown his way. He was stopped short in his own travel to the door by a tug on his shirt. He turned to find Swartz frowning at him, that look that meant '_watch him'_ in his grey eyes. He didn't respond, but grunted as he left the pristinely white office to catch up to a still seething Damon.

All Swartz did was worry.

**Xoxo**

_**BANG**_

He couldn't help the flinch that ruined his shot at the recoil of the gun, embarrassment heating his face as he caught Daniel dropping his head in the corner of his eye. Daniel wasn't the only one reacting to his lack of skill; a selective group of bald tattooed men snickered and taunted him under their breath. He gnawed on his bottom lip as he peered down at the weapon in his gloved hands, irritation and disappointment faltering his security towards the very public shooting range.

"It's not going to bite, Colt." Daniel sneered, rearing the embarrassment into his colleagues face. Eyes usually harboring curiosity glow with detest and humiliation.

"I know that!" Damon hissed low, dangerously toned with his face shaded a deep red. Daniel let's a 'demonic' smirk grace his lips as he watches Damon struggle with this new found intensity in his anger. He knows he shouldn't be pushing Damon so far into this emotion, having never experienced him enraged. The latter attempts to compose himself but memories of panic attack morph the sensation into an all too chillingly familiar ghost.

_Breathe_, he tells himself, _just breathe_.

But he can't get himself to remain calm as Daniel's insults suddenly began eating at him and deepening his fury- something niggling at the same spot with similar effects, something buried and unreachable. Within a second, he snarls, moving to snatch the pistol from its resting place. He snaps a single arm into the aiming position and let loose without a blink.

He doesn't even try to get his bearings as he viciously pulls the trigger, trying to keep his aim steady towards the black silhouette ahead. The anger boiling in him seems to slow after each shot, the constant rhythm of **BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM **muddling his sharp senses. Something inside him doesn't want to pause; something buried is fueling his fury that doesn't have anything to do with his 'friend.' He just feels this need to defy and destroy built in big bubble of hate. He doesn't stop until the clip is empty, giving a pathetic click, a thin cloud of smoke coming from the nozzle.

The board comes back riddled with bullet holes in no particular order; some were on the outskirts, others hit where the heart would be, and then an estimate of four to six holes pierced in the head of the lifeless flab. Damon wasn't sure whether to feel a massive swell of pride or a wall of shock.

He couldn't do either, not with hints of his rage still trickling in his veins. He has the urge to flex his right hand but the gun is still in his iron grip. He really isn't planning to release it quite yet. He feels relief when he finally rids his ears of the gigantic headphones, his hearing once again perfect and picking up on every noise around him.

Daniel is left stunned in the shooting range as Damon storms out, shoving the still warm weapon into his acquaintances chest. Daniel throws a glance to the group that had been more vocal a moment ago, all flabbergasted at the sudden change in attitude. Daniel hurries into a jog to reach Damon, placing the gun on the counter as he passes. The younger is gone; not in range no matter how far Daniel cranes his head in search of him.

"Damn he's fast." He mutters shoving and wiggling into the mass of people in front of him, searching for that too red hoodie that Damon took a liking too. But no sign of curses as he keeps his short stride to look nonchalant in the deep city regions of Rome.

"Too fast!" He growls, eyes skimming every human being and building they come across-until finally, a little flash of red crosses the road into a shop.

"There you are."

Daniel curled his lips into a devious smile as his prey was within his sights.

"Agh what the hell!" Damon yelps as he feels his neckline tighten around his Adams apple, the culprit whipping him around to meet severely pissed blue eyes.

"What the hell is right! Why the fuck did you run off like that? You want me to call the frickin' cops for a missing person report? Or tell Swartz I lost you? How did you even get so far so fast? I walk out the go-"Damon yanks himself out of Daniels' grip, eyes that had calmed now gleaming warningly.

"You don't need to babysit me Cross, believe or not I can take care of myself!"

"Oh ho trust me Colt, I _don't_ believe it."

"Oh?! And why's that you-" Damon takes a wild swipe and Daniel has his hood in his grip again, that snarl in full swing, something feral in those cold, cold eyes. The words stop in Damon's throat, the anger and hatred leaking away to leave a shocked sort of awe. There was something different about it; Daniel snarls out of annoyance, or does to simply be left alone. But he seemed so frazzled at the moment, out of composure.

"You just now held and fired a gun today. You had a panic attack not even a week ago. You could barely fuckin' walk when Swartz brought you back. ' . I don't believe you can take care of yourself because I felt the same-

"_excusez-moi?"_ Daniel stops short at the foreign voice, pointing still boiling irises towards the curious woman a few feet away.

"_Puis-je vous aider?"_ He growls, ignoring Damon's confused glances. The woman has a strange sort of a smile on her face; uncertain, worried. She motions towards the two with a finely manicured hand and asks:

"_vous avez bec d'un amant?"_

And Daniels' recoiling, practically flinching from the woman's words and releasing Damon as if he burned him. Damon is left confused, that wide-eyed expression the girls at the office loved gracing his face.

"Huh? What-" Daniel is stumbling and spitting in another language. The woman seems embarrassed, covering her mouth with her hand and awkwardly responding to Daniels blabbering. The woman leaves with a light blush on her face, abandoning an even more frazzled Daniel and a confused Damon.

The younger Templar slowly comes to stand next to his colleague, noting the fresh color in his face, the man huffing breaths like an irritated bull.

"Sooo…you gonna tell me what that was about?" Daniel closes his eyes at the sound of his voice, his face contorting as if he was reminded of what just commenced.

"She…" He hesitates, some sort of shudder going through him. "…thought we were umm…" Damon carelessly smacked Daniels' chest, their anger and hatred gone from shock and curiosity.

"C'mon man spit it out!"

"She thought we were lovers." Damon's mind rears off into nothingness, a blank look crossing his face as the words process. "…and thought we were having a 'lovers' quarrel.'" Daniel's disgust shows, another shudder passing through him while Damon remains deathly silent. Daniel feels that perhaps he's finally broken Damon, and they'd have to start all over on the project again-until…

"Pffft." Icy eyes find warm green with a snap of the head, the soft green holding utter amusement, just as their host busted into a hysterical fit of laughter.

Damon keeps going, tears starting to stream down his face. Daniel is growling.

"Y-you looked like…you were going to pop a cas-"He starts again, failing to speak. "…and she just-I-I can't breathe."

Daniel stiffens, rolling his eyes as the tan continues his hysteria. "Ha-ha, laugh it up you little shit."

Damon calms, wiping the tears off his face where a shit eating grin rested. "Done?" Daniel sneers, bristling at the soft nod Damon gives.

"I'm done."

"Good. We're heading back." He stalks off without a glance, knowing Damon would follow.

But for once, he wishes he didn't.

Clothed arms link around his neck behind him, his captor leaving a millisecond long peck on his ear, the sensation too unfamiliar to not go unnoticed.

"Whatever you say, _mon amour_." Then the arms are gone, a flash a red flying by his victim in a fit of laughter.

"COLT, GODDAMNIT." The argument was forgotten, childish impulses leaving two grown men sprinting through the streets to their car.

Daniel got his pay back.

Damon never stopped laughing.

And for some reason that got Daniel laughing too.

**I AM ALIVE : D Barely (I kid) But in making up for my absence, I give you a nice long chapter, sprinkled with a little too much humor. I promise not to do this again**


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